


oblivion

by aquatulip



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatulip/pseuds/aquatulip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gasp Eren draws in is abrupt, Armin can feel it on his lips. Those words are the closest he will get to telling Eren how he really feels, and he’s not entirely sure that Eren knows the gravity of those words. Their gazes meet again, but this time the passion is returned to Armin’s baby blue eyes. “Your eyes remind me of the ocean,” Eren says against his lips, before pressing another kiss to them, then to the corner of his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> headcanon where armin arlert is ASEXUAL (also implied gender-fluid) and has a dorky crush on his best friend
> 
> lyrics from oblivion by bastille  
> poem credit to robert frost and emily dickinson 
> 
> everyone deserves fluffly eremin dorks

— _are you going to age with grace?_

            — _are you going to age without mistakes?_

Animals have defense mechanisms ( _fight or flight – fight fight fight **fight**_ ); felines bare their teeth, pulling their skin back to show their threatening fangs that could rip through human flesh, some species of frogs are able to completely shut down all their body functions, only to generate an electric charge that restores life back into their feeble bodies. Eren resembles a canine when he draws his lips back to expose his teeth menacingly (he looks feral, like a _wolf_ protecting it’s pack). Words fly out of his mouth with droplets of spit; his voice is only a quiet hiss of anger. If Eren is a wolf, then Armin thinks of himself as a potato beetle, only the dirt dusting his cheeks and buried in his hair is from his assailants themselves.

Eren and Armin are seven years old; Eren looks at Armin and sees the _sun_ : necessary to sustain life. Armin looks at Eren and sees something intangible that his intelligence has yet to grasp hold of; he reminds him of this invisible thing that his grandpa talks about constantly: _hope_ , but no one can see _hope_. ( _grandpa why does this boy look like_ hope _then?_ )

The whole moment freezes in Eren’s mind; he sees the look of terror on Armin’s face, he notices that he’s pulled his arm back, and there is even the look of mild confusion registering on the bully’s face. When it all thaws, his fist, which had been drawn back, feels like he’s placed it on a burner. The bully is the one cowering as he takes careful steps backwards, cupping his nose, before turning from the two boys and running away.

“Eren,” all the air leaves Armin’s lungs; the looming fear dissipates from around him. For the young boy there is no immediate threat of danger ( _titans – fear the titans_ ), for him, he can breathe easily again.

Slowly all the muscles in Eren’s face relax, then he is giving Armin a toothy smile ( _safe – armin’s safe – he’s okay_ ); Armin returns it with his own as Eren helps him to his feet. They are children, so when they travel along the main road of Shiganshina holding hands the adults only smile because they are children and children are supposed to think they can capture happiness if only for a fleeting moment.

No words pass between them as Eren leads them through crowds of people; his grip on Armin’s hand tightens when he is jostled by a drunken adult. Eren pulls on his arm roughly, making Armin cry out in pain ( _frail – tiny – breakable_ ). A muttered apology flies through the air between them, and suddenly they are standing in front of Armin’s house.

When their eyes meet, Armin takes the lead and tugs on Eren’s arm gently. This scene will play again for them years later, but for now there is nothing in their eyes but a childish glint of mischief ( _and fear – fear buried within each and every one of them_ ). They release their hands to pull off their shoes, then pull off the rest of their clothes until they are both stark naked and standing before Armin’s grandpa who guffaws into his hands. No one wonders where Armin’s open expressions have come from, because one look at his grandpa and everything makes sense.

“You kids,” he says with a imperceptible smile while Eren wonders where Armin’s parents are because living with just a grandpa has to be weird, but he doesn’t say anything as Armin’s grandpa takes both of the boys into the bathroom and runs bathwater. No one thinks anything amiss when both of the boys climb into the same tub because they are children, and children deserve to feel a sense of comfort amongst one another.

Eren splashes Armin and his grandpa which elicits bell-like laughter from both of them as Armin splashes him back lightly. Bending down, Armin’s grandfather lathers his hands with soap before burying them in Armin’s hair as he works the dirt out. “Were kids causing you trouble again, Armin?” The words are quietly asked, and before Eren can think of an excuse Armin nods slightly.

A sigh is exchanged between the family members; Armin’s wide, blue eyes stare at Eren with a certain type of curiosity that is transitory. He gathers up suds from the soapy water before plopping it onto Eren’s head. He copies his grandfather’s motions and rubs the soap into his friend’s messy brown locks. Laughter, like chimes, reverberates against the walls of the rather small, but hollow bathroom.

“How’s your hand?” Armin asks in a small voice, retracting his hands away from his hair.

Eren looks down at his hand while Armin’s grandpa fills up a cup to pour water onto Armin’s head repeatedly until all the soap and dirt is off of the poor boy. “Are you okay, Eren? Standing up for Armin?”

Eren opens his mouth, but Armin’s voice is the source of the next sentence. “I guess I’m just useless..” His words are sad as he stares down at the water. Eren’s hand finds Armin’s beneath the water’s surface and Armin’s grandpa gently takes Armin’s chin in his hands. ( _useless –failure – you amount to nothing_ )

“ _Don’t_.” He says, releasing Armin and switching his attention to pour water over Eren’s head.

By the time both of the boys are clean, the water is tepid and Armin’s grandpa is quick to empty the tub while pushing both of the boys towards Armin’s bedroom. “Here, this shirt is big on me.” Armin says after giving Eren a once-over. He also tosses a pair of underwear and shorts at Eren. He pulls his own clothes out of the drawer and dresses quickly.

            There’s a shine in Eren’s green-as-grass eyes when he takes Armin’s hand and whispers, “Tell me about the ocean.”

“The _ocean_ is so incredibly vast, Eren,” Armin chatters excitedly, holding the book in front of him with a tight grip; Eren plucks it out of his grip before dropping the book onto the floor. They are both laying on Armin’s bed.

They are ten, and Armin knows too much about the world: he talks excitedly about all the wonders that await them outside the walls. ( _heretic_ _– useless –  burn him_ ) Armin shifts uncomfortably when the thoughts jump to the forefront of his mind; all the words die on his tongue. Eren’s expression changes dramatically: from a deep furrow of the brows to a delicately confused, thin press of the lips.

When he leans forward, they bump foreheads lightly which causes heat to creep up Armin’s neck. These feelings are _new_ and _confusing_ , and he isn’t exactly sure what it is about; he’s read about hormones, but he doesn’t want to _touch_ Eren: he wants to see him smile in this dark world; to see his eyes shine with that passion that he is full of ( _wants to kiss him_ ).

Hopefully it passes; he is ten, and he doesn’t understand the concept of love, but he loves Eren’s smile more than he loves seeing the stars scattered across the night sky.

Eren’s the one who is too gentle with Armin, as he tucks his head into the crook of Armin’s neck; the steady in-out breathing on his neck makes Armin shiver pleasantly. When Eren is around, he gets a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and suddenly everything is okay ( _even though their world is about to fall apart and Armin will grip at the foundation just hoping that everything won’t fall through his fingers – stopping the inevitable is like trying to catch smoke in your hands:_ impossible). “Tell me something smart,” he says idly. Eren’s always been content here in Armin’s hold.

“ _Of so divine a Loss/We enter but the Gain/Indemnity for Loneliness/That such a Bliss has been_ ,” the words flow freely, a soft lilt lifting from his tongue and dancing on the tip. They both lay there quiet, Armin traces the shape of Eren’s ear with a stray finger, then: “Mikasa says you still want to join the Survey Corps, Eren.” Faintly, he thinks Eren is like catching smoke too; there are parts of Eren that Armin won’t even be able to see no matter how hard he looks.

Tilting his head back, Eren looks at Armin with shimmering eyes, but a coy expression. “Armin—”

All the words die on his tongue when Armin leans forward to kiss him, but it isn’t anything more than a chaste peck. Armin pulls away though he has been burnt, and Eren looks at him with wide eyes. “No, I support you,” he chews on the inside of his cheek, “I don’t like it, but I support you. I always have.”

They are ten, but Armin feels thirty-five. There’s something beating on the inside of his skull, begging to be freed; his body feels too small for his conscience.

Neither of them talk about the kiss, it has happened before in moments of happiness between the two friends, but this time they ignore it altogether. Something in the atmosphere around them is changing, but neither put a name to it. Armin pulls away from a protesting Eren, only to smile softly at him. “I’m just getting a blanket; looks like you are spending the night.” This is also a common occurrence, but lesser so since Mikasa has come into the picture.

“Come _baaaack_ ,” Eren whines nonetheless, reaching out his hands to close around the blanket in Armin’s hands before pulling him back onto the bed. The blanket drapes over both of them awkwardly, falling off the bed on Eren’s side as Armin tends to give him too much of the covers. Subtle things like this Eren notices much to Armin’s dismay.

The blanket isn’t a topic of discussion either; it belonged to his mother ( _Eren thinks he remembers correctly – the memory is like a distant, flickering flame atop a candle – if he disturbs it too much it will snuff out_ ), who had sewed it for Armin before he had been born. It is warm, but Armin cuddles closer to Eren still. Their hands find each other easily; sunlight no longer is streaming in through the window over Armin’s bed, and the room grows darker and darker each passing minute. “Remember when you were scared of the dark?” Eren whispers despite knowing it doesn’t matter if he whispers or not; Armin’s grandpa is probably sleeping or working, maybe even reading.

Armin shrugs, “Who says I’m not still?” There is an anxious tremble to his voice as he steels his nerves to look up at Eren in the dark. It is hard to make out all his features in the growing darkness, but his eyes glisten like emeralds. “Full of possibilities; that’s a lot to fear.”

( _you’re not doing this alone_ )

“I am thinking about joining the military too,” he says, immediately regretting it; Armin hasn’t even considered it as a possibility. The way Eren’s arms tighten around him sends him mixed feelings as they bump knees. Eren remembers just moments ago how Armin had accepted his decision.

Finally, Eren’s voice finds strength. “I have faith in that brain of yours to decide correctly.”

A flick to the forehead; some muffled chuckling.

            Armin’s not too sure of himself, but he knows he doesn’t want to let Eren down: _ever_.

Eren’s never been good with finding the right words for soft situations; Eren is boisterous: able to project his opinion over a battlefield, yet he just scrambles desperately for some arrangement of letters that will communicate to Armin how _beautiful_ this moment is ( _and how he wants to live in it again and again and again_ ). There’s a field of wildflowers near to the training ground; Armin’s curiosity seems to always get the better of him these days, but he never gets penalties from wandering.

Today, he’s brought some flowers back nearer to the training ground; he sits underneath a tall oak tree that is sturdy against his back. Armin’s fingers work quickly to lace the flowers together by the stems. When Eren finds him, he is napping with a crown of flowers atop his head. Eren can feel the muscles in his thighs scream in protest when he crouches in front of Armin. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Armin jolts, bolting forward and knocking into Eren, who can’t help but to chuckle. “Morning, sunshine,” he smiles softly as Armin rubs at his eyes before looking up at Eren with the smallest hint of a smile on his face.

They are thirteen, and Eren treats Armin too gently: soft touches, gentle words, and kind gazes all envelope Armin ( _which isn’t to say that his temper doesn’t flare up sometimes still, and Armin is on the receiving end of those nasty gazes – sometimes_ ).

( _Armin remembers asking Eren one night – why are you so gentle with me? – Eren huffed, moving away from Armin before lacing their fingers together – because from the moment I met you, you’ve been covered in bruises and I don’t want to be one of your bruises_.)

“I thought I’d find you before you missed dinner,” Eren says, helping his best friend from the ground, but the flower crown stays placed atop his head while discarded flowers lay around the base of the trunk. Eren picks one up off the ground and weaves it into Armin’s hair; his hands move lightly through his hair; words fail both of them. “I—” Eren starts just to watch all the words dissolve on his tongue.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers finally.

Armin, wide-eyed and sure he is dreaming still, opens his mouth, but instead of saying anything, he propels himself forward and into Eren’s arms. “Don’t say things like that,” he whispers, voice hitching as the inevitable tears spring to his eyes. He is thirteen, and feels impossibly too young to be going into war.

When Armin pulls away, Eren wipes the tears away from his eyes ( _everything is soft – feather light – Eren_ ). Somehow, their lips find each other; Eren thinks it feels like sunlight has fallen onto his lips: he’s _warm_ and this kiss is definitely different than any kiss they’ve shared before, except they share kisses over happiness. He could get drunk off Armin’s bubbling happiness right now; lips eager, but so _tender_.

The kiss ends too soon, and Eren just grabs Armin’s hand. They head to dinner with flowers in Armin’s hair and sunlight on Eren’s lips.

            Eren’s name becomes a scream sitting on many of their lips, but most of them aren’t waking in a cold sweat, screaming out his name.

The nightmares start somewhere right after Armin finds out that his best friend is a titan; that his best friend is _far away_ from him. All Armin has is Mikasa right now, which is never a bad thing, but she’s prone to awkward silences since they’ve joined the military. “I’m joining the Survey Corps,” she says one day.

He had already decided; he’s decided from day one.

While they wait for the day when they finally join the Survey Corps officially, Christa spends most of her time with Armin; she finds out that he is highly intelligent, and they have stimulating conversations while she braids his hair. She ties ribbons onto the blond, smiling pleasantly to herself. “Are you—?”

“Yes,” Armin replies, tipping his head back. They could pass as siblings, Armin thinks quietly to himself while he revels in the feeling of her hands in his hair. He’s always had a weakness for Eren playing with his hair, and Christa is gentle as well.

Her hands still, and they sit in an uncomfortable silence. “Are you in love?” Armin asks, sounding very small.

Christa merely shrugs. “Can’t be too sure with so much going on,” a sigh slips free from her lips before she presses them into a thin line. “In a world without the titans: yes, without a doubt.”

Tears pool, but Armin just draws in a sharp breath. “In a world without the titans, no one would need me.”

( _useless – heretic – weak weak weak_ )

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Armin. You are probably the smartest in this bunch; I have trust invested in you,” she gives him a smile before standing up. Books sit scattered on the table, and Christa starts putting her pile away. “One day, you’ll tell me more about the ocean, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles at her as his fingers dance across dust-filled pages.

Days pass; Armin aches for Eren, but keeps his mouth shut as he pledges his heart to humanity: to the Survey Corps. He keeps his mouth shut until Eren is standing before him, but Mikasa is quicker than him. Words pour from her, all the worries fall from her as Eren banishes all of them away. His eyes flit between the both of them.

( _missed you so much missed you missed you so so so much_ )

Most days, Eren trains for the upcoming mission with Levi’s squad, but some days he gets a break. Armin gains knowledge, pursuing it even within the tiniest nook and cranny. They are impossibly fifteen, and Armin thinks he might be in love with his best friend.

When Armin’s in the library that the Survey Corps has to offer him, he ties his hair back with a ribbon that Christa had given him, and flips through as many books as he humanly can. Books about the outside world taunt him, but he’s too busy trying to become a better tactician; he wants to be utilizable to the team. His eyes greedily consume book after book; logic comes easy to him. His mind categorizes every bit of information that might be necessary to them one day. He reads books on combat, finds out where his weak points are, figures out how to sustain his own life.

Eren finds him with a pencil behind his ear, hair disheveled, and a crazy glint in his eyes as he devours another book in a matter of minutes. “Armin?” He says quietly; the atmosphere of the library pressing down on him.

There’s a deadness in Armin’s deep blue eyes when he turns them to Eren; for a moment, all the air in Eren’s lungs is completely knocked out of him. Never has he seen Armin look so _old_ , so _broken_. Armin’s brain registers this is _Eren_ , and something in his expression softens as he kicks the chair next to him out, inviting Eren to sit wordlessly.

He takes the hint, plopping himself down into the seat then resting his head against the table. “Tired?” An amused tone slips from Armin’s expressionless mouth as his eyes scan a paragraph that is particularly uninteresting. _Mmm_ is all the response that he gets from Eren; idly, he reaches a hand to tangle in Eren’s hair, playing with it as he reads.

“I’m so _happy_ to see you _alive_ ,” he finally says, picking his head up from the table and taking Armin’s hand into his own. There’s a warmth that spreads throughout his fingertips as Eren toys with them pointlessly. When Armin looks away, back down at the pages of his book to try to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks, Eren places tiny kisses to the palm of his hand.

Armin’s voice sounds feeble, like he’s lost the power to speak, “Eren?”

“Hm?” His best friend says with those green eyes; Armin’s finding himself getting lost in them nowadays, much more rapidly than he has ever before.

He closes the book he is reading with his free hand, then disengages the other one from Eren’s grasp. Both of his hands move on their own accord, cupping Eren’s cheeks. “ _Don’t_ ,” is all he says before pressing a kiss to Eren’s forehead; his eyes slip closed and Armin presses fleeting kisses against each of his eyelids, then to the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. When he speaks, his lips brush against Eren’s, ghostlike. “I’m prepared to die for you, because I know your worth to humanity, and you mean more to me than you mean to all of humanity.”

The gasp Eren draws in is abrupt, Armin can feel it on his lips. Those words are the closest he will get to telling Eren how he really feels, and he’s not entirely sure that Eren knows the gravity of those words. Their gazes meet again, but this time the passion is returned to Armin’s baby blue eyes. “Your eyes remind me of the ocean,” Eren says against his lips, before pressing another kiss to them, then to the corner of his mouth.

They pull away, but underneath the table, Armin’s ankle crosses Eren’s and neither of them say a word.

            “I’m not interested in sex,” Armin says one night, drawing the attention of all the people at the dinner table.

Levi’s gone to bed, and that just is incentive for the others to crack out the alcohol; Jean takes a particularly large gulp of vodka, then the room explodes in colorful conversations about their sex lives. Eren coughs awkwardly, opting out of talking about it; Mikasa plays with her cup, shrugging with a _mind your own business_ on her tongue.

“What?” Jean says, lifting an eyebrow.

Armin shrugs, repeating himself. “I’m not interested in sexual relationships.”

Someone makes a noise in the back of their throat that sounds like they are choking, and everyone just awkwardly looks away from Armin; no one knows of a viable way to respond. Sasha just decides to ask quietly, “Do you want to talk to us about it?” Armin makes a noncommittal noise, pulling a face that shows how unbelievable he thinks his comrades are.

“Do I want to talk about my lack of sexual interest?” He snorts, “No, I’ll pass because I think that about covers all the bases.”

He is seventeen, and he knows that he’s in love with Eren Jaeger; he’s sure about himself..

Mikasa clears her throat, trying to diffuse the tension; Eren looks from Mikasa to Armin, who purses his lips. Jean shrugs indifferently, resuming his binge drinking. Standing from the table, Armin excuses himself. Underneath the table, Mikasa nudges Eren, then mouths _go after him_.

Finding Armin isn’t difficult, he’s all gangly limbs in his bunk bed; a smile blossoms on Eren’s lips as soon as he sees his familiar blue eyes scanning something etched into the bed. His hair is getting longer, just brushing his shoulders; frequently, he talks about cutting it, but hasn’t gotten to it yet.

Carefully, Eren slides into the bed next to him, throwing an arm over Armin’s stomach. “Hey, you,” Armin’s voice is indulgent as bells at his ear. First he presses one kiss to the side of his head, then to his temple, and then Armin is peppering small kisses along his jawline. Eren bats him away playfully: _gently_.

“Why’d you run off?” Their noses brush when Eren turns to look at Armin.

All he gets in return is a shrug while Armin laces his fingers through Eren’s hair distractedly. “I… was bored,” he huffs, pressing ( _one – two – three_ ) kisses against Eren’s lips before pulling away and propping himself up on his elbow. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“N—Wait, why would I care?” An innocuous tilt of the head; Armin wonders if Eren has complete mental processes. Searching his face for any giveaways that Eren is just joking, Armin huffs, rolling onto his back, then sitting up abruptly.

Their eyes meet, and Armin takes the lead once again, tugging on Eren’s hand until they are sitting across from each other; both of Armin’s hands find Eren’s. “Dammit, Eren,” he chuckles wholeheartedly, leaning forward to rest his forehead on his. His eyes close. “Eren, I would die for you, not just because of what you mean for humanity, but for how much your life means to me. An existence without you would be a meaningless one where I would be unneeded.” He can feel Eren’s breath on his lips. “ _Two roads diverged in a wood, and I/I took the one less traveled by/And that has made all the difference_.”

Without warning, Eren is sliding his lips against Armin’s, nipping at his bottom lip playfully. “You say eloquent things expecting me to understand, but I’d like to say that you’re the sun in my universe: absolutely necessary; you outshine all else. Armin, I’ve always accepted you blindly. Nothing matters as long as you are alive, and you are by my side.” ( _needed – loved – warm, so warm_ )

There is no warning when Armin pounces, pushing Eren down onto the bed as they tangle their legs together; they end up laying with Armin’s arms around Eren, and Eren’s messily sprawled limbs across Armin. The space between them is minimal; they are seventeen and there is a war raging outside their doors.

            Waking up beside Eren has been an occurrence for years now; in the mornings, Eren sees to be groggy, but never grumpy. They exchange a smile when Armin rolls over, then he rubs their noses together. Laughter escapes both of them.

At twenty-one, they drop into a heap on the floor of their new home.  
At twenty-one years old, they know what it is like to have lost, to have loved, and pain marks every inch of their bodies.  
Eren and Armin are twenty-one, and things suddenly aren’t as complicated anymore and the straps from their uniforms don’t cut into their skin and blood no longer stains their hands. The key no longer hangs from Eren’s neck, and none of their friends scream outside in horror and fear of titans.


End file.
